Alfred Jones, Vampire Hunter
by Master Espana
Summary: Alfred is a vampire hunter trained to kill, but what happens when he falls in love? How can he keep his love safe and risk dying every day?


_"I wish I had never met him. I should have ignored him, pretended I didn't notice. If we'd never met, he's still be alive._

**2 weeks earlier...**

"_Help! _Please God n-" the young brunette's voice was cut off as the scarfed man bit into her throat, the orange flower in her hair falling as if saying goodbye.

Ivan chuckled as he pulled away from the limp body, the sound bouncing around the dark alley that was dimly lit by the silver crescent moon. Dark liquid gleamed from his mouth.

"What a lovely meal, _da_?" Ivan said, talking to the dead girl propped against the wall. "I thank you." The vampire began to make his way out of the alley.

"Don't think you're gonna leave without paying." Ivan's body stiffened as a flash of silver cut through the air in front of him. It barely nicked his favorite purple scarf.

He sniffed the air and adjusted his violet eyes to the right. A man in an American bomber's jacket stood atop the low building, a spiked baseball bat slung across his shoulder.

The Russian scowled. "And who might you be? Another meal?" Ivan ran his tongue across his fangs, eager for the taste of more blood.

"Psh, yeah right! I'm the friggin' Hero!" Alfred pointed the bat at the vampire below him. "And the knife was a warning shot!"

Ivan looked behind himself, and sure enough, sticking out of the red brick was a silver throwing knife. His violet eyes sparkled. It wasn't polite to play with your food, but this was an exception.

Alfred advanced, jumping from the rooftop, bat at the ready, aiming for Ivan's head.

The vampire's eyes narrowed. He shot his hands up, and quickly, taking a few steps forward to intercept his opponent's legs, he rammed the American in to the red wall.

Alfred gasped for air on impact and dropped his weapon, his back stung like a mother. "Uh, sonofabitch." he groaned.

Ivan took Alfred's neck into his big hands. "Kolkolkolkol, that was too easy." Pain suddenly erupted from his chest. He looked down to see a black knife hilt protruding from his chest, a dark area already forming around the blade. The Russian gulped, terror stricken. He looked up to a smiling Alfred, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. There was no regret in the American's blue eyes.

Ivan dropped to his knees. Alfred spoke, but Ivan could barely make out the words, as his vision turned red. He was almost sure Alfred had said, "That was too easy." And then, nothing.

Alfred huffed as the vampire fell over dead, his back aching as he pulled away from the wall.

"Damn, that's gonna leave a bruise." he said, bringing his hand to his mouth and wiping at the blood. The American bent down, his jacket swishing as he retrieved his favorite bat from the ground and his knife from Ivan's body. The silver blade made a sickening sound as it slid out of the wound.

A voice broke through the blackness of the alley, making the blonde jump in shock.

"Kesese, good job Al. Looks like Ivan won't be causing any more trouble.

"Gil..." Al said, making a full 360 turn, trying to find the voice's origin. He stopped when a white haired man appeared out of thin air, his reddish brown eyes twinkling in the starlight. The American grinned.

"I'm so the Hero."

The pale man chuckled, red eyes seeming to glow. "Yes, but you couldn't be a hero vizout zie awesome me!" Gilbert exclaimed, making a sweeping motion with his arm.

Alfred stared at his mentor, remembering how they had met, as well as the tough training.

The German had come across his unconscious body in a dark Manhattan alley, much like the present one. Gilbert had carried him through the night and brought him home. When Alfred awoke he recounted what had happened, telling Gil as much as he remembered. The American had been flirting with a girl, and the next thing he knew, the girl was over him, the top of her blue dress unbuttoned with fangs bared and ready to bite. Alfred had acted without thinking, ripping his pocket knife out of his jacket and stabbing the vampire over him. Gilbert had asked for more detail, but Al had been too drunk to remember the small stuff. That was when his vampite hunting career began.


End file.
